When the Thunder Rolls
by windscryer
Summary: Forced to take a trip to a coin-operated laundromat, Juliet winds up getting a little more than the quiet laundry day she bargained for. Shameless Shules.
1. Just Her Luck

Disclaimer: There would be way more of this kind of thing if_ I_ was in charge. I can _guarantee_ that.

Lu gives me more prompts. You get a story. YAYZ!

Uhhh . . . if you haven't seen the fourth Indy yet 1. what are you waiting for? and 2. this will be a tidge spoilery.

But, srsly, WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?

* * *

She sighed and pulled into the parking lot just as a low rumble of thunder echoed through the dark clouds above.

"Great. Rain. Just what I needed to make today _perfect_." She sent a silent plea to the grumbling sky to hold off on the precipitation until after she'd finished her task and was safely home again, but after her luck so far today she wasn't holding her breath that her wish would be granted.

She climbed out and wrestled her big basket out of the back seat, muttering about _why_ exactly had she chosen this car again? She could have had a nice sensible four door car that didn't require gymnastics to retrieve things from the back seat.

But then she didn't normally need to transport her laundry. In fact, her back seat didn't see a lot of things that were difficult to get in and out.

However, when the washer in one's house decided to—for no reason that she could discern—stop working, and the repair place was booked up until next Wednesday, and she had been so busy with her cases this past week that she hadn't done laundry as she usually did . . . well, it sort of necessitated finding a new way to do things.

So here she was in the cleanest clothes she had that she was willing to wear in public—sweats and a t-shirt that had seen better days, but had no embarrassing holes—hair pulled back with a scarf since her last hair-tie had snapped on her this morning, laundry basket on one hip, several rolls of quarters from the bank in her purse, big bottle of detergent in her other hand, about to enter the Soap-and-Tumble Coin Operated Laundry.

She hadn't done this since her college days when the sorority's washer and dryer broke.

But really, how hard could it be, right? Like riding a bike, surely.

It wasn't _rocket science_ or anything.

Then again, she was having trouble opening the door.

Seriously, who put a push/pull door on a place where people were bound to be going one direction or the other with their hands full?

She had managed to secure the basket of clothes with her wrist and gotten the now-freed hand on the door, but the only way to balance the basket required she brace it with her leg.

Which made walking sort of difficult.

She hopped back one step, regained her balance after a moment of wobbling, and then was ready to try for a second step.

She very nearly went down, but a little—somewhat violent—realignment of her center of gravity and she was still upright.

Also, the door was open.

"Hooray!" she muttered softly.

Now she just had to . . . Uh . . .

Dammit.

There was no good way to get _through_ the door. She squinted at the opening now mocking her with its welcoming rush of warm, clean laundry scented air.

_Dammit_.

Maybe if she . . . sort of twisted? And propped the door with one foot?

Only, she was going to need the other foot and that would require some incredible reflexes.

Yeah, she could probably do it.

She took in a deep breath, mentally psyched herself up, and moved.

Only to have the door slam in her face because, turns out, a large, heavy laundry basket affects both your speed and coordination.

She glared at the clear glass bouncer barring her way.

Fuck that. She wasn't letting some damn door get the best of her.

But before she could figure out another plan of attack an arm reached past her and a voice rather close to her ear said, "Here, let me get that for you."

She jerked and twisted to see who the creep was—and recognized his face just about the same time she realized she knew his voice.

"Shawn?"

He smiled and pulled the door open. "Hi, Jules." He nodded. "After you."

She felt a blush creep up her cheeks and stammered a thanks, then accepted his invitation and ducked inside.

Why was she embarrassed? She had a perfectly legitimate reason to be doing her laundry here and it wasn't like there was anything wrong with doing one's laundry at a coin op anyway.

Yeah, that little cynical voice in her head said, which is why you drove halfway across town to use one not near your own home.

Oh hell. She was a laundry snob.

Her cheeks flamed brighter, if that was somehow possible.

Shawn had followed her in and she couldn't help sneaking a glance at him, wondering if his psychic skills were always on and if he could ever control who he heard.

And then she frowned because she realized something odd.

"Shawn, where's your laundry?"

A bright sign had distracted him and he blinked and turned back, eyebrows rising. "Sorry, what?"

She set her basket down in front of several empty machines and said, "Your laundry? Don't people who come here normally bring things to wash?"

He tilted his head toward her. "They do when they come here to do their laundry. But I'm not here to do _my_ laundry."

"Well then what are you here for?" she asked as she began sorting the clothes into piles, darks to the right, colors to the left . . . delicates behind the basket where Shawn couldn't see them . . .

"I see London, I see France, I see someone's underpants," he sang and with a devilish grin dipped a finger into her basket, coming up with a pair of panties dangling from the extended digit.

She glared and grabbed the embarrassingly lacy item, stuffing it in the pile with the rest.

"Shawn," she said. "What are you doing here?"

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "I don't know. The spirits mentioned that if I came to this location I'd find a very beautiful woman who needed my help."

He looked pointedly around at the otherwise empty room, then back at her and grinned.

"Found you."

She snorted and rolled her eyes, mentally noting that his standards were even lower than Carlton thought they were if _she_ fit into his idea of a beautiful woman at the moment. She looked like the lead role in one of those down south chick flicks about the single mom just trying to keep things together until her knight in shining armor showed up.

"Well thank you. I certainly appreciated your assistance with the door." She hoped he'd take that for the subtle hint that it was and leave. After all, getting out she could certainly handle.

He hopped up on the table, crooked one leg in front of himself, the other dangling over the side, and reached into her basket, grabbing a handful of clothes and sorting them from his lap.

She made a sound of protest, but he was quick and accurate and he actually managed to sort several more of her delicates without comment, so she gave in and let him work.

Well, okay, she didn't _physically_ stop him.

"Shawn, really, I appreciate the offer, but I'm fine."

He glanced up, then back down as he took another handful. "I know."

She sighed and kept sorting.

"So did you hear the guy in Marketing at Gus' work was caught stealing office supplies?"

"No," she said, wary. She couldn't help but feel that Shawn wanted something from her, but was just building up to it with small talk. "Gus said he thought something was going on, but no one was quite sure what."

"Oh yeah. And not just a few things, like a box of staples or some company pens. We're talking, like, reams of paper and an entire case of dry erase markers."

She frowned. "Why?"

Shawn shrugged. "Dunno. The spirits are unclear on that part."

"Wait, you're looking into it? It's that big?"

"Well, it's not exactly something you'd call the papers about. They don't think." He shrugged again. "They're doing an inventory to see if they can figure out just how much he's taken. But I'm pretty sure that we stopped him before he took any office chairs." He grinned again and finished with his pile, bringing the sorting portion of the exercise to an end.

Shawn lifted his other leg and spun around so he could slide across the table and drop down on the side she was on where the washers were located.

He scooped up her darks in one hand and moved to an empty washer to load them while she was doing the same with her whites.

"Don't use that one."

She blinked and then looked at him. "What?"

"That one's broken. You won't get any agitation from it."

"Oh." She looked warily at the machine, but didn't see anything wrong with it. "How-"

He grinned and turned to grab her colors, further splitting them between two washers one for warm colors and one for cool.

"You really need to ask?" he said.

She shook her head then pointed to the one above it. "How about that one?"

He gave it an intense look, then closed his eyes, hand rising in usual theatric fasion.

"Yep," he said, eyes popping open. "That one's fine."

She shook her head again, but this time in amusement.

Within moments the laundry was all loaded up—including her delicates which he graciously allowed her to take care of as he dug into her purse for the change.

"Ooooh, shiny!" he said and cracked a roll on the edge of the counter.

He quickly doled out the exact change she'd need for her washers, then set about feeding his own.

Once they were all running, he jumped back up on the table, legs swinging back and forth to bounce his feet together.

Juliet leaned back against the washers, trying to think of either conversation or a way to hint again that he could leave, but he spoke first.

"You really are beautiful," he said.

She blinked.

"I know you think that's not true at the moment," he said waving his hand. "But Natalie Portman has nothing on you."

She frowned. "Natalie Portman?"

"Yeah, in that one movie . . ." He snapped his fingers for a moment, then pointed at her. "_Where the Heart I__s!_"

Juliet blinked.

"The one about the Walmart baby?"

"Yeah."

"You've _seen_ that?"

Shawn shrugged. "I've seen a lot of things."

Then her eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms over her chest.

"So, you're saying that dressed like this I remind you of a pregnant homeless woman stealing from Walmart? And that you find that _attractive?_"

His mouth fell open, jaw working for a moment.

She arched an eyebrow.

"Well, no," he said finally. "I mean, I find _you_ attractive, but not . . . uh . . ."

"Uh huh." She reached for her purse, intending to dig out some gum to chew, when he continued.

"But when you do have kids one day you're gonna be one of those moms that just _glows_ when she's pregnant."

Juliet froze.

Her eyes came up and met Shawn's.

Now it was her turn to gape like a beached fish.

"I-" What the hell was she supposed to say to that? Was that a psychic thing? Or was he just trying to flatter her?

A rumble of thunder saved her from having to answer and she looked to the wall of windows comprising the front of the store to see her car getting pounded on by a downpour.

"Ah, crap," she said, shoulders drooping, the hand with her purse falling to smack into her thigh. "Now I'm either stuck here until it stops or my laundry's going to get wet again. Dammit!"

Shawn leaned back, bracing his hands behind him on the table and bringing one foot up to rest on the other knee. The dangling leg continued swinging.

"Neither," he said.

She glanced at him, then back at the pouring rain.

"It'll stop before your laundry's done," he added, obviously seeing or _sensing_ her doubts.

"You're sure?"

He scratched at his chin and glanced out the window himself. "Pretty sure, yeah."

Then he leaned forward and clapped his hands. "So, we were talking about movies. Seen the new Indiana Jones yet?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes."

"You didn't like it?" he asked in surprise.

She shrugged one shoulder. "I liked everything up to the last fifteen minutes or so."

"Aw come on! That was the best part!"

She snorted in derision. "No, it wasn't. It was an insult to the rest of the series."

"Jules!" Shawn protested. "But it's _Indy._ How can you not like Indy?"

"I do like Indy,_"_ she said. "That's the problem. I don't think that _aliens_ are true to the story and the characters."

Shawn's finger came up. "Okay, first of all, they weren't aliens. They were transdimensional beings."

Her eyebrow went up again. "Who traveled in a flying saucer. That makes them aliens in my book."

"Nonononono! You're missing the _point_, Jules!"

Her head tilted. "And that would be?"

"It's _Indy_."

Her snort was amused this time. "That attitude right there is why the movie sucked. They got complacent. They figured all they needed was Harrison Ford for the hardcore fans and Shia LeBeouf for the younger crowd and the story wouldn't matter. And because of that we got _aliens_."

A louder crack of thunder split the air and the building shook slightly.

Juliet looked at the still pouring rain.

"Are you sure that it's going to stop?"

Shawn shrugged. "Yeah. Pretty sure."

She sighed. She really hoped he was right, but knowing her luck today, she was going to be here until midnight. Yippee.

* * *

Review, plz&thx.


	2. When Darkness Falls

Part two. *GLEE*

* * *

The rain did continue through the rest of her wash cycles, but stopped shortly thereafter.

She breathed a sigh of relief as she and Shawn moved the soggy clothing over to the dryers.

He hopped back up on the table and offered her a hand, but she waved it off.

"I'm fine."

"You sure? It's going to be harder to play from down there."

Her brow furrowed, but he was already reaching into his back pocket to pull out a deck of cards.

She gave it a moment's thought, then put her hand in his and said, "Fine. What are we playing?"

He shrugged and lifted his arm, pulling her off her feet. She braced herself with one hand and boosted herself the rest of the way up onto the table.

"What do you want to play? Rummy? Go Fish?" His grin turned salacious and his eyebrows waggled as he said, "Strip Poker?"

She snorted. "Definitely no to the last one. You've already seen enough of my underwear today."

"Aw, come on, Jules! You really think you're that bad at poker? Because I have it on good authority that you're quite the card sharp."

"Maybe when I'm not playing against someone who has an unfair advantage," she said dryly.

He pouted. "Jules! I am wounded. You think I would use my superpowers for evil like that?"

"You really want an honest answer to that question?"

His expression took on an edge of challenge. "You think I can't handle the truth?"

"I don't know. Can you?" she asked. "That was an _excellent_ movie by the way."

Shawn grinned. "Yes it was. Back before Tom went crazy."

Juliet realized that Shawn was dealing out the cards.

"So what are we playing?"

"Go fish."

She nodded and picked up her hand, scanning her cards.

"Ready?" she asked as he laid the leftover stack down in the middle.

"Go for it."

"Got any twos?"

"Go fish."

Shawn took his time studying his cards and then made his request for sixes. She shook her head, then said, "Carlton's aunt is coming into town."

"The mean one or the one he likes?"

She frowned. "The one he likes I think. Queens?"

She netted two cards and grinned as she tucked them into place.

"So why has he been in a bad mood all week then?" Shawn asked.

She shrugged. "Sevens?"

"Go fish."

"I think he's worried that she won't like Annabelle," she said, in response to his question.

Shawn's eyebrows rose. "Wow. So he's really serious about her, huh?"

Juliet shrugged a shoulder. "Seems to be. I've never seen him act like this with any of the other women he's dated."

Shawn chewed on his thumb. "Huh. Fours."

"Go fish."

Another crack of thunder that Juliet would later be embarrassed to say startled a squeak out of her sounded right over their heads, followed by the room going dark and utterly silent.

"Ah, no! Come on!"

She jumped down, moving slowly in the faint light coming in from outside. Not much because it was pretty dark out there too despite the fact that it was mid-afternoon.

"It'll come back. Give it a second."

She turned to face him, scowl on her face—not that he could see it, but he'd be able to hear it in her voice—but right then lightning flashed again and filled the room.

And that's when she found that Shawn's face was about half an inch from hers.

Their eyes met in that brief moment of brilliance and then everything went dark again, darker than before the blinding flash while her eyes tried to recover.

Thunder cracked overhead, but she wasn't entirely sure if that was what made the room shake or if it was just her knees wobbling from the sensation of Shawn's lips pressed to hers.

The kiss only lasted as long as the thunder rolling through the sky, and when it ended she was very much aware of the missing sound of the dryers.

They had been replaced by her almost panting breaths and the sound of her racing heart.

She licked her lips, well aware that he could probably hear that just as well as she could, then said, "Shawn?"

His voice was soft, hushed, but no less audible in the silence.

"You know what I like about thunderstorms, Jules?" he asked. She could feel the breath from his words on her own lips.

"What?" she asked, voice as soft and hushed, almost a whisper.

"When the power goes out."

She could just see his face highlighted by the faint light from outside.

"When the-" She gasped as his hands came together on her waist and then she was being lifted up, flying through the air until her butt came back down on the table. She could feel him—not really see him, but definitely feel him—standing there between her knees and then his hands moved up to her neck as her head was tugged down.

"Sh-" was all she got out before his lips were back on hers, pressing and teasing and then his tongue traced her bottom lip and she moaned and forgot about her protests, opening up to his welcome invasion.

Really, why the hell was she complaining? This was certainly more fun than playing Go Fish.

Even if her laundry wasn't getting down.

He tasted like cinnamon and she couldn't help but wonder if it was from gum or candy.

Her hands had gone to his shoulders when he picked her up but now they moved of their own volition to his neck, fingers carding through the short hair at the back of his head.

His right hand slid down her shoulder, back to her waist, the left heading up into her hair, sliding under her scarf and teasing her scalp. She hummed in pleasure at the sensation.

She was just leaning into him, really beginning to enjoy kissing Shawn Spencer when the lights came back on and blinded her again.

She reeled back, looking up at the banks of lights overhead, then twisted to see all the dryers had started running again.

When she looked forward again Shawn had backed up, pressed against the washers, eyes wide, lungs heaving.

He almost looked like he'd had a close call with a Mack truck.

She was pretty sure she looked a lot like he did, at least as far as the wide eyes and heaving lungs and wow, was it warm in here or was it just her?

Because the dryers were giving off heat and so that probably made the whole room warmer, right? Especially this close to them?

Her hands came up to her cheeks, the cool backs of them nice against her warm skin. That seemed to poke a hole in her 'dryer' theory, but it couldn't just be her because Shawn was looking pretty flushed himself.

But then he was also twitching like a druggie coming down and wanting another hit already.

His eyes were darting everywhere, landing on her occasionally, but only briefly before moving to something else.

"Jules-" he tried to say, but it sort of died off at the end there and he swallowed rapidly several times, his Adam's apple jumping up and down. "I- I'm sorry. That was- I didn't mean-"

She coughed to clear her own throat and found the scratched surface of the table she was sitting on to be immensely fascinating all of a sudden. "No, it wasn't- I mean, you weren't the only one who- You shouldn't- _I_ shouldn't have-"

She snapped her mouth shut, teeth clicking.

"I- I should go," Shawn said, pushing away from the washers just enough that he wasn't going to be sliding along them as he left. "Sorry, Jules," he whispered and started to leave.

"Shawn, wait!"

He froze two steps away, but didn't turn, the tense muscles of his back all she could see of him to gauge his mood.

She slid down, giving her feet a second to make sure they were ready and able to carry her weight, then walked forward.

He spun around, right as she reached him, hands coming up as he took another step back.

"Look, I'm sorry, Jules, I am. I don't know what- I mean, I didn't mean for that to-"

"I know," she said softly. She reached up and took his hand, hesitating for only a moment right before she made contact. Then she she grasped it and pulled it down and held it between hers.

"And if I hadn't wanted it or hadn't liked it, trust me, I would have let you know."

He still looked wary, like she was a wild animal and he wasn't at all sure of what her next move would be.

She stepped backward and gave a tug on his arm.

"Come on. Play Go Fish with me."

"But-"

"I don't want to sit in this laundromat by myself on a rainy afternoon. Keep me company?"

He nodded. "Okay. Yeah. Okay. Go Fish."

He followed her back to the table and bent to pick up the cards that had hit the ground in their haste to get down.

She climbed back up and he followed a moment later, then began righting the playing cards.

"Shawn, we probably have to reshuffle. I'm not sure I remember where everything-"

"I got it," he said, and kept working. Less than two minutes later he had it all set up the way she was pretty sure it had been, down to the last card.

"Wow," she said. That was really impressive.

He coughed. "So, uh, your turn." His eyes were focused on his cards with a laser-like intensity, and she tried to do the same with her own.

"Tens?"

"Go fish."

Silence filled the air until he said, "Sixes?"

"Go fish."

She wondered if she should try to talk about what had just happened, but had a feeling it would end with him trying to escape again and this time she wouldn't be able to stop him. She chewed on her lip—momentarily distracted by the thought that they seemed a little swollen and then feeling the heat return to her cheeks when she thought about _why_ they would feel that way.

She blinked and forced her wandering attention back to the game.

"Tens?"

There was a soft laugh and she looked up in surprise.

The barest hint of a smile curved his lips on the one side and his eyes sparkled with that familiar mischief.

"You just asked for those."

She looked down at her hand again, then realized she had indeed just asked for them. She was never going to stop blushing at this rate.

She cleared her throat and tried not to sound like she was shoveling grade-A bullshit. "I know. But you drew another card."

His head tilted and he laughed again, then took the card from his hand that he'd just added and gave it to her.

"Are you stealing my mojo?" he asked.

She blinked and then took the card, staring at it in surprise.

"I- No?"

He grinned and she could see his whole body relax in one wave washing from his head down to his toes.

"Your turn again," he said.

She tucked the ten into her hand and tried to keep the goofy grin off her face that was threatening to take over.

"Jacks?"

"Go fish."

o.o

The game ended with Juliet winning by a single set and just about that time the first dryer buzzed the end of the cycle.

They climbed down from the table, Shawn sweeping up the cards and shuffling them into a neat stack to put back into the box, tucking it away into his pocket again.

He half turned so she could lay the warm pile of clothes down, then began folding, nimble fingers making quick work of the shirts.

"Shawn, you really don't have to help fold."

"I know," he said, just like he had every time she hinted he could stop helping. But he also picked up another shirt and tweaked it into order.

She sighed, but didn't bother trying to protest further.

Conversation had come back to them during the game and they talked now about baseball and who was likely to go to the World Series this year.

"You can't get in contact with the ghost of Babe Ruth or something?" Juliet asked.

Shawn shook his head. "Nope." Then he smiled slyly. "Why? Looking to put down a little wager on the game?"

"No. Betting on sports is illegal in the state of California, Shawn."

He shrugged. "Okay, looking for a tip to give your cousin that lives in Vegas?"

She turned to look at him, hands pausing in their folding of a shirt. "How did you-"

He arched an eyebrow. "How do I always?"

She shook her head. "No, I know. I'm just curious. I don't entirely understand how your gift works."

"Neither do I, Jules. I just know that it does."

He folded the last shirt and put it on the top of the stack in the basket, then went to unload the next finished batch.

He dropped the pile on the table, then turned to her, grabbing her by the waist again and lifting her up to sit on the table. She held onto his forearms, not releasing until he did.

"Shawn-" she said, blue eyes locked on his hazel ones.

But he just smiled and stepped to the side, leaning his back against the table as he picked up a pair of her slacks and shook them out.

"So I have a theory about Bradley."

"Who's Bradley?" she asked, folding a pair of jeans.

"The thief from Gus' work."

"Ah. Okay. What's your theory?"

"Well, the spirits say he has a sister who works as an elementary school teacher."

"He's stealing supplies from a pharmaceutical company for an elementary school class?"

Shawn shrugged. "So far everything that it's known he's stolen would be useful there."

"Well, okay, but that just seems kind of like an odd place to get supplies from. And why would she accept them? She has to know that it's illegal."

"Unless she doesn't know where they come from."

"I guess," she said with a frown. She set aside another pair of pants and picked up a shirt. "It's still just a weird idea. Stealing from work to give the stuff to your sister for her class? I will never understand the way some people think."

Another load finished and Shawn added it to the pile. They continued to talk and fold, the easy feeling from earlier returning.

The last buzzer sounded, but instead of going to get it, Shawn came over and lifted her down.

"What-"

"I figured you'd probably want to handle this one yourself," he said, the faintest pink tinting his cheeks. He returned to his spot and picked up another shirt.

She frowned, then realized what was left, her own cheeks pinkening. "Oh. Right."

She gathered the items, tucking them in close to her chest as she made a last visual sweep of the dryer's drum, then shut the door.

She stuffed this load into the basket along the back. She could fold them at home.

Shawn finished up the last few items and put them in the basket.

"There. Done."

Juliet looked to the wall of windows and Shawn's gaze followed. "And, as predicted, no rain."

She ducked her head and smiled. "Thank you, Shawn. For all your help."

"No problem, Jules."

She gathered up her things and went to grab the basket, but found it was already in Shawn's hands.

"Ready?" he asked. She nodded.

She opened the door for him and the hurried past to get the car door as well and he tucked the basket in the back, then straightened.

"Thanks for an . . . enlightening afternoon," he said.

"You're . . . welcome?" she said.

He chuckled, then tilted his head, staring at her intently for a moment. He seemed to come to a decision with a nod of his head and darted in to brush a kiss against her cheek.

"See you 'round, Jules."

And then he turned and walked away, hands in his pockets.

Her fingers came up to touch the spot that his lips had, the skin there still tingling.

"See you," she said faintly.

Then she shook herself and got in her car.

She needed to call the repair place again and see if they had any cancellations. She wasn't sure she could handle doing her laundry outside of her home again.

She paused and looked at herself in the mirror, lips still slightly kiss-bruised and swollen, cheeks flushed, scarf over her hair just a bit askew.

The memory of what had happened in those few moments of darkness came back to her and she couldn't help smiling.

Then again . . .

* * *

Review plz&thx.


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